


Two Can Party

by engmaresh



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Backstabbiness, Humor, Loki being Loki, M/M, Mind Games, Non-Explicit Sex, Sakaar (Marvel), Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Weird Sex, featuring Jeff Goldblum as himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: So Loki's settled on his plan to sleep his way to the top (with some light stabbing possibly involved when he's at the top). It may be wild, decadent and unpredictable, but it'sfun.Of course it's also dangerous, and there's the fact that the Grandmaster might be onto him...





	Two Can Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiderstanspiderstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/gifts).



He was given a suite of apartments on the ninety-seventh floor, and of course there was a price to pay for that. Not that Loki minded, admiring the view as he stripped off his clothes, ever conscious of the Grandmaster at his back.

“That’s–that’s nice,” the Grandmaster muttered, as if to himself, and Loki shuddered as the other man’s hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his arms. It was not yet an overly sexual touch, but it had been a while since he’d been intimate in this form. As Odin, he’d been in mourning for the past four years, taking no other lover or spouse out of respect for his dead wife. Besides, though surrounded by lovely handmaidens as he’d been, the thought of doing anything with them in that form..eugh. And as himself...what few dalliances he’d had have been in his female form, and he hadn’t allowed any of them develop further than the simple gratification of pleasure.

He slipped out from under the other man’s hands, moving away from the window and crawling back on the circular bed–absolutely ridiculous–the crushed silk cool against his skin.

“Oh, mmm, straight to the point,” said the Grandmaster, rubbing his hands together delightedly. In the interim he’d managed to divest himself of most of his clothes, leaving only the golden robe, which framed an admirable and completely unexpected six-pack. Sakaar’s ruler was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but Loki hadn’t expected him to be quite that fit too. He raised himself up on his elbows for better view of what he was about to get himself into, but then with a slight tug, the bed started turning, sending him sprawling in the slippery silk.

“Like it?” asked the Grandmaster, joining him on the bed. “It’s a great view.”

It _was_ a great view, but between the spinning and the crazed activity that went on beyond the giant windows, it very quickly ended up being nausea inducing. Determined not to throw up on the Grandmaster and thus ruin any chances he had of getting further, Loki fixedly kept his eyes on the other man, who preened under the attention, and proved to be a thoughtful lover, one of the better ones in fact.

He did talk an awful lot though.

“Oh, yes, mmmm, yeah.”

“Do, do that again.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Nice. Ve-very nice. Yeah.”

Definitely the chattiest bed partner Loki’d ever had. He didn’t mind though. It wasn’t like he had anything left in him to do more than groan.

By the end of round three the sheet were damp with sweat, all the pillows had been tossed to the floor and the view outside had turned into a colourful smear to Loki’s tired, heavy-lidded eyes. He felt great. He also felt like he could sleep for weeks.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” said the Grandmaster, patting him on his chest. His hair, which had looked wrecked a moment ago was back in its usual mildly spiked coiffure. The paint on his lips and chin had smeared off, likely onto Loki’s face judging from the way the older man raised his hand to wipe at something on his cheek before giving it an almost-fond pat.

“Yes,” Loki had to agree. It _had_ been very nice. He gave a long languid stretch as the Grandmaster, now suddenly clothed again too, adjusted the neck of his golden robe.

“Excellent. That’s very good.” He bent down and gave Loki an almost paternal peck on the brow. “We like when people stay.”

With those parting words, he swept out the door. An entire entourage was waiting out the corridor. Had they been there the whole time? Did that Topaz woman follow him everywhere?

All questions to be answered soon, but not right now, Loki decided. Groaning slightly, now beginning to feel sore in certain unexpected places, he slowly sat up. The man was...odd. A lunatic, clearly, but those where always the most dangerous ones. He ought to know, he’d been rather intimately acquainted with madness for a while.

That said, it looked like his climb up the ladder was off to a good start. Loki pushed himself to his feet and staggered over to what he hoped was the bath. Now he just needed to figure out how to call the servants to change the sheets.

 

* * *

 

 “Nononono, don’t–don’t do that.”

“What?” asked Loki, turning around, enjoying the way the material swept around his feet. He knew it wasn’t to his style and he probably looked ridiculous in it, but over the weeks the desire to try it on was driving him mad. It might have been the fact that sometimes the Grandmaster insisted on wearing it during their crazed sex marathons and somehow managed to not look utterly ridiculous while doing so. Despite it’s crinkly look on the outside, the material that lined the Grandmaster’s golden robe was surprisingly soft. Being naked underneath however did make the odd choice of the one sleeve rather more noticeable.

“That’s mine,” said the Grandmaster, and there was a rather alarming look in his eyes that made Loki realise it was best to obey him in this.

“No harm done,” he said, quickly sliding the robe off his shoulders. He held it out for the Grandmaster to slip on, but the older man took it from his hands and shook it out for several seconds, as though Loki’d contaminated it. Right. Somewhat offended, but not stupid enough to voice it out loud, he turned his attention towards lavish fruit bowl that had been arranged artfully on a golden table. He was reaching for one of the grape-like fruit that actually tasted more like the pairing of a rotten apple with an orange when fingers closed around his other wrist. Oh shit. Was that ridiculous robe really going to be what would send him out of favour with this planet’s ridiculous ruler?

The Grandmaster didn’t look outraged, but that made Loki even more wary. He’d seen the man melt prisoners with a puzzled little smile on his face, as though he couldn’t quite understand why they were shrieking so. The state of his slippers concerned him more than the execution himself. And Loki had better things to do with his life than die such a humiliating, ignoble death.

“Grandmaster?” he asked, forgetting the fruit for the moment.

“Hey, hey,” said the Grandmaster, walking his fingers up Loki's arm and chucking him fondly under the chin. “You like shiny things. I like shiny things. But they’re _my_ shiny things, yeah.”

Loki nodded. _His_ shiny things. Noted. And judging from the way the Grandmaster’s other hand curled around his hip, he was probably one of those _shiny things_ too.

There were worse things to be. Hostages, stolen relics, tools, all roles Loki of Asgard had played and played well. _Shiny thing_ was the lesser of many evils. He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the couch for round two. Their lovemaking this time was somewhat more perfunctory than previous sessions had been, though the Grandmaster still talked his way through it  and remained as attentive and inventive as usual. Of course then, with his hand on Loki’s prick, the Grandmaster let slip that the soft fur on which they were fucking was the pelt of one of his gladiatorial contenders, resulting in possible the most confusing orgasm Loki’d ever had.

“Fuck,” Loki gasped, the word escaping his mouth before he could bite it back, torn between intense arousal and terror, even as his body seized up. Though whether it was to prepare to run or come, he couldn’t tell, not like this, on the knife edge of what looked to be one of the weirdest, most confusing orgasms of his life.

“Oh, just look at your face,” said the Grandmaster, never once stopping in his ministrations. “I’m joking of course.”

Apparently that, and Grandmaster’s odd, fondly paternal smile was enough to send him off.

(And later, when Loki had time to think about it, he’d find that the smile both intrigued and disturbed him more than all the sly, cruel, vicious smiles that had ever been directed his way)

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” asked the Grandmaster, running his hand over the fur as he rested his chin on Loki’s chest and waited for him to regain his breath.

“Very nice,” wheezed Loki, his seemingly still addled brain providing him the disconcerting mental image of the Grandmaster and a faceless rival fucking on a skin made of _him_.

He left–fled–the room as quickly as he could after that, but not before taking the fruit bowl with him. The Grandmaster liked shiny things. Loki liked shiny things too. It was petty and ridiculous, and he knew it. But it was satisfying and worth it, later that evening at a party, to watch as the Grandmaster’s other floozies screamed each time they picked up some fruit only for it to turn into a snake and nip them before vanishing.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Loki found himself being ushered along some highly polished floors for an audience with the Grandmaster. There’d been a worrying lack of his requests for Loki’s presence and Loki had almost considered taking drastic steps to regain his attention. A murder had been on the top his list, something dramatic and splashy, possibly involving that five-eyed fool that had recently worked their way into the Grandmaster’s social circle.

But today, a servant had knocked and handed him an actual gilded invitation, and so he was here again, in the Grandmaster’s throne-cum-party room, though it was at this moment free of both throne and party. The DJ set up that had been there during the party was pushed aside, replaced by a golden minibar, behind which the Grandmaster was preparing a drink.

“Tadaah!” the Grandmaster said by way of greeting, and handed Loki something fizzy in a tall glass. “Let’s go to my orgy ship.”

“Orgy ship?” asked Loki, examining the cocktail. It was clear, smelled strongly like the lemon polish that the royal servants of Asgard used scrub down the feasting tables, and had shiny specks of glitter floating in it. He took a cautious sip. It tasted like oranges and gold, and going down it felt like he was having his brains smashed in by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.

“Shit,” gasped Loki, barely managing to hold onto his glass. He quickly set it down on the closest flat surface, a table, and then followed bodily to inhale a deep breath and get his brain back in order.

“Oh yes,” said the Grandmaster, rubbing his hands together, completely ignoring his discomfort. “There’ll be fireworks. Come on.”

He didn’t wait, stepping onto a hovering platform and zooming off. Loki had to quickly pull himself together, push himself to his feet and hurry after in order to catch up. He managed to catch him at the elevator, where they were met by that unpleasant Topaz woman and the Grandmaster’s “throne”. The Grandmaster stepped off his hovering platform and sat on his chair, which Topaz then pushed into the elevator. To Loki’s distaste, she followed them in, together with several brightly coloured guards. The result was a rather cramped elevator, and Loki ended up almost straddling the Grandmaster’s lap.

“Nice trick, the one with, uh, the snakes.”

“Illusions, Grandmaster,” Loki corrected him, trying to ignore the Grandmaster’s gentle bumping of his knees into his thighs.

“You’re delightful, isn’t he delightful?” the Grandmasters said, turning to Topaz. The women huffed, and glared at Loki. He found himself unable to meet her disdainful gaze, and spent the rest of the ride down focusing stubbornly on the Grandmaster right knee, ignoring the way the man kept running his finger up his thigh and grinning up at him, trying to provoke him into some action. It was rather juvenile, but Loki was in the mood to indulge the man a little, relieved that his little stunt with the fruit hadn’t gotten him out of favour with the Grandmaster.  
  
They finally reached their intended level, and the guards filed out, allowing Loki some breathing room and to put what he deemed appropriate distance between himself and Sakaar’s ruler. After all, he didn’t want to seem desperate or besotted, trailing after the Grandmaster like some kind of motherless whelp. It helped that they were joined there in the elevator lobby by several other guests of the Grandmaster. They rushed to gather round the other man, leaving Loki free to inspect the room, and to carefully observe the codes Topaz punched into the keypad to access the Grandmaster’s private hanger.

The orgy ship was surprisingly small for a ship that seemed to be intended to fit at least ten people engaged in various sexual positions. Loki also had to note the complete lack of any surfaces suited for sex, and that the doors seemed more suited for dropping potential intruders to their deaths than to invite any pleasure seekers. Then again, it was quite possible that “orgy” had different meanings on Sakaar. Or maybe any pleasure had was to be the Grandmaster’s alone, and that maybe there was the chance that he was going to get off by way of dropping his partygoers to their deaths.

To Loki’s relief, Topaz and the guards did not join them in the ship–her gimlet-eyed stare aside, it would also have been far too crowded–allowing to take a seat next to the Grandmaster in the ship’s cockpit.

“She’s called the Commodore,” the Grandmaster told him, fondling the controls. He ran a finger up one of the panels, trailing blue lights and bringing the engine to life with a smooth humm. “Mmm look at this, isn’t she responsive.”

“Very nice,” agreed Loki, who had to admit she was a remarkable ship, though he usually had little interest in them. Of course, he’d be far more impressed once the Grandmaster revealed what exactly he had in store for the ten other people in the back.

“Flies like a dream, mmm,” the Grandmaster murmured to himself, and she did. Twisting in his seat, Loki saw the city left far behind, swathes of waste-land sweeping by below them in smears of colour.

“So where are going?” he asked the Grandmaster, who was muttering “Must go faster, must go faster,” under his breath. It would have been worrying but for the fact that he did seem to know how to handle the ship, bringing her smoothly over dips and valleys in the trash below, sending her in tight, balanced curves.

“We’re going to have some fu-un!” sang the other man. He mashed a button on the dash and suddenly fireworks sprang up around them. In the pack, the passengers cheered. Something soft smacked into the back of Loki’ head. He pulled it off; it was a pair of lacy black panties.

“Oooh, they’re getting started already!” the Grandmaster whooped. “Why don’t you join them, Loki?”

Loki smacked away a tentacle groping his face. “Just trying to enjoy the ride,” he said, smiling.

“Oh,” said his companion, “you will!” And with that he wrenched the controls up, sending the ship into a near vertical climb that had Loki clinging to the edge of his seat. In the reflection of the windscreen, he could see the others in the back throw hands and tentacles (and in one case feet) in the air as they whooped and cheered, all pressed together against the back wall by G-forces.

After the first shock, the climb began to smoothen out, and Loki watched aghast as the Grandmaster began to unbuckle his safety harness. “Don’t–”

“You worry too much, Loki,” said the Grandmaster, reaching over Loki’s lap to undo his too. “Look we’re almost there.”

And instead of falling back into the pile of people, he gently drifted off his seat and into set of waiting tentacles. Loki gaped, then looked out the windscreen, where he could see the gentle curvature of Sakaar stretch out below them. Its bright colours mottled by clouds and wormholes, it reminded him somewhat of the spun, thread-like sugar his nanny had gifted him as a child, a gift from beyond the palace walls.

But if the planet was below him, then beyond them was the black void of space. Loki shuddered, and realised he was drifting far too close to the glass for comfort. An instinctive flail sent him floating back, bumping into several people along the way, all already naked or in several stages of undress.

“Watch it,” someone said, and he flailed again briefly when another musky set of underwear drifted into his face, obscuring his vision.

“Heyheyhey,” he heard someone say, and a hand closed over his wrist and a tentacle around his ankle. Together, both the Grandmaster and his companion reeled him in.

“Don’t like space?” asked the older man. Unlike everyone else, he was fully clothed, though his hair was mussed and he had a tentacle peeking out the collar of his robe.

“I’m not overly fond of it,” Loki admitted.

“Oh mmm,” said the Grandmaster, “oh dear. We’ll have to change that now, won’t we?” he said to his tentacled companion.

Then he turned to Loki and winked at him. “Ever had sex in zero-G?”

 

* * *

 

The Grandmaster took them down again, the landing far more subdued than the take off had been. Loki, head pillowed on someone’s furry stomach and a tail draped over his hip, hadn’t even noticed the ship dock before he felt the Grandmaster nudge his side with a slippered foot.

“Come on,” he was saying, waving and gesticulating at his tired passengers. “Up you go, the next batch will be down any minute.” The doors of the Commodore opened and a few unlucky guests tumbled out. Of course Topaz was there, waiting with a retinue of guards and an incredibly bored look on her face.

“Are they leaving?” she asked sourly.

“Chop chop chop!” cried the Grandmaster, clapping his hands.

They filed out in various stages of undress. Loki wobbled to his feet, trying to stuff himself back into his annoyingly sticky trousers and walk a straight line at the same time. His tunic and undershirt were missing, but that was the least of his worries now.

“Next batch?” he asked, pausing at the door to lace himself up.

“Of course,” said the Grandmaster, patting him on the cheek. “It’s orgy week.”

“Of course,” Loki repeated weakly. “Orgy week.”

He got a smack on the ass before he jumped off the ramp, so that was something. Slowly the group shuffled off, shepherded by the multicoloured guards back to the elevators, where the “next batch” were emerging through the doors.

To all eyes watching, Loki got onto the elevator with the rest of his companions. The doors closed, and they vanished, heading back to the upper levels of the city.

So nobody questioned the sudden appearance of the tall, dark-haired woman in the new group. A latecomer just catching up with them, Loki explained, hooking her arm through that of a green-skinned, red-haired man. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“I heard it’s orgy week,” he explained. “Though I’m not sure what we’re doing in the hanger.”

“Ohhh,” she said, eyes wide, as they stepped through the doors. Someone had set up a dancing game off to the side and the Grandmaster was moving along to the flashing tiles. He turned when they entered, eyes travelling excitedly over the new group. Loki allowed her gaze to meet his, before she quickly turned away, feigning shyness. But not before she caught the Grandmasters sly wink. She hid her answering smirk in her companions shoulder. This was going to be fun.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I watched ["Earth Girls are Easy"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8EeK-879_0) for this and I don't know why. I wanted Loki to have weird touch-orgasm floaty sex with Jeff Goldblum but that didn't quite work out in the end.
> 
> Then the Grandmaster/Tentacles thing happened and I kinda had to put that in here too.


End file.
